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The Photograph
"Ohmigosh, this is so fun!" Isabella squeals as she's wheeled backward on the ride. "I know, huh?" I say. Everything happens fast. I see a mechanical arm whooshing towards me, but stupid me, I sit there and let it hit me. I feel a split second's excruciating pain, and then the world goes black. I open my eyes and find myself in an unfamiliar place. "Where... where am I?" I look over and see a pretty girl with a pink bow and matching dress. Next to her is a green-haired boy. They both look really familiar, but everything is blurry and I can't tell where I've seen them before. "We're in the hospital," says the girl. "You were hit pretty hard in the head." "Who are you guys?" I say, turning to look at the boy and the girl. The girl turns, horrified, to the green-haired boy. "I was afraid this would happen!" she squeaks in terror. "Hello," says a man in a white coat, coming over to me. "How are you doing, Phineas?" "My name is Phineas?" I ask. "Who are you? What's going on?" "You were on a ride," the man says. "You were hit very hard in the head, and so, you can't remember too much." "Will he be stuck like this forever?" the girl says. I see a lot of fear in her eyes. Why is she so worried about me? Does she like me or something? The man turns to her. "Phineas will not be stuck like this forever," he says, smiling. "But if you could bring in some pictures to trigger his memory, that would be perfect." The girl gets up and runs out the door, leaving me with the green-haired boy. "I'll be right back!" I lay back on my pillow and close my eyes. I don't know in the slightest who I am, who the pretty girl is, and who the green-haired boy is, and where I am. I hear footsteps and open my eyes again. The girl has returned, holding a photo album with "Phineas and Isabella" written on the front. I like the sound of that. "Phineas and Isabella." It has a nice ring to it. "First things first," says the girl. "My name is Isabella Garcia-Shapiro. I live across the street from you and I am the same age as you are." She turns to the boy. "This is Ferb Fletcher. He is your stepbrother and is also the same age as you. "You are Phineas Flynn. You are about ten years old and own a pet platypus named Perry. You have an older sister named Candace Flynn. "Since the doctor said to bring in some photos, I obliged and brought in some." Opening the photo book, she shows me a picture of me riding a rollercoaster with her and Ferb. "This was taken on the first day of summer. You and your brother are both avid builders, so you built a rollercoaster and decided to make summer the best it can be." Turning the page, she shows me another picture. This time, I'm surfing. "You build something new every day. Your sister Candace tries to get you in trouble for building it by calling your mom. Whatever you build disappears for no apparent reason, but it always does." She turns the page to a shot at what looks like a festival. We're both smiling. Isabella is holding a big stuffed chihuahua and I'm holding her hand. Isabella doesn't need to turn any more pages. I bolt upright in bed. "I remember!" I cry aloud. "We were at the Mid-summer's Festival together! You had wanted that chihuahua, and it was there every year, and you never got it... You asked me to get it for you, and I got it, and you kissed me in triumph, and Ferb returned from riding a rollercoaster with Gretchen, and he took a picture of us with the chihuahua! He also told me he was feeling like a third wheel that morning around me and you, and... I remember! It's all coming back!" "Oh, Phineas!" Isabella shrieks. I lean over and give her a big hug. I can hear her crying. "Don't cry," I say, hugging her tighter. Don't ever let go, I think. "I know who I am now. I'm Phineas Flynn, and you're Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, the best girl friend I could ever need, and you're Ferb Fletcher, the best stepbrother-slash-friend that I could ever want, and..." I hug them both. "I'm so glad I can remember everything!" "Great!" cries Ferb. "Who's up for milkshakes?" Category:Fanon Works Category:Che's Articles